Messenger
by Tramontana Keeper
Summary: It wasn't supposed to end like that. But it can't be the end as long as there's someone else to carry the burden, even if they have to be whipped into carrying it. Mangaverse, spoilers ch 53
1. Chapter 1

Warning: manga spoilers for chapter 53 (but not much else).

"_A man's messenger is like unto himself."_

He tweaked his braid one last time and stared at his reflection in the mirror. Dull golden eyes looked back at him, framed by bright blonde hair. He was slightly tanned, and there was a determined set to his chin. The face was perfect, down to the small scar on the left cheek. Except it wasn't _his_ face, it was-

A knot in his chest, somewhere between a wail and a sob cut off the thought. Pure misery washed through his mind, and he found himself clutching the sink in a death-grip, his automail leaving small cracks in the porcelain.

_Who are you?_ his tormentor demanded, sending another wave of mental pain at him.

"E-edward El-ric!" he sobbed helplessly, incapable of fighting any longer. It was easier to give in; the longer he fought, the worse it inevitably was. Every time he lost one of these battles he could feel _him_ entrenching himself deeper in his consciousness, eroding his identity further.

Mustering his old hatred he smashed the mirror, shattering the black-and-gold image of Edward Elric. If only he could do the same to the _real_ one.

"I hate you!" he screamed, but he wasn't quite sure if it was truly the other he hated or himself for submitting. He wasn't even sure where the boundaries between himself and the other ended any more.

_Don't you think that one of us hating me is enough?_

He felt the roiling at the edge of his mind which usually heralded the beginning of another attack of self-hatred. Icy fear gripped him, the expectation of pain.

"N-no," he gasped out. He sank to the floor and clutched his head, trying to create wall to block the pain out of sheer will, though he knew from experience that he could never succeed. He hated these mental attacks, hated how they left him exhausted, hurt, and wanting to slit his wrists just to get it to stop. "I did what you said!" he pleaded, trying to buy time.

…_true,_ his parasite seemed rather mollified. Abruptly the pain lessened, and he felt the other's hope slowly resurface, and with it, determination. _We'll restore Al._

He felt the determination as if it was his own.

* * *

He had never meant to kill Edward Elric. On the contrary, he knew that severe penalties would befall him if he failed to protect the human. 

But that didn't mean he had to refrain from taunting him. It was so amusing to watch the shrimp explode in anger. Amusing, that is, until the alchemist insulted him back and attacked him; that he could not forgive.

Before he knew it, he had lost control –only for a moment, but it was enough. By the time he managed to restrain himself, the damage had already been done. Fullmetal lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, choking on his own blood.

He knew from experience that when a human's breath bubbled in their lungs like that, the human wasn't going to live. It was pathetic how fragile these humans were.

He knelt by the fading alchemist, and wondered morbidly what he was supposed to do now. Father would _kill_ him…

Edward watched him hazily, despairing, before one last spark lit his eyes. The alchemist painfully brought his hands together –he didn't stop him; was there a chance the shrimp could heal himself? -then, with the last of his strength he grabbed the homunculus' arm. A rapid alchemic reaction occurred and when the red lightning cleared away, the alchemist was dead.

Not completely dead, he suddenly realized as he felt an alien presence inside him. It had been years since he had felt the confusion of other consciousnesses conflicting with his own; not since Xerxes, actually. Edward had sacrificed his life to his Philosopher's stone.

At first the situation was ironic, amusing even. He could sense Edward's despair at his failure, feel him curling helplessly around the stone he had sought for so long, which was now irrevocably beyond his grasp.

But it had been so long since the sacrifice of Xerxes that he had forgotten what it was like at the beginning. He had forgotten the terror of living inside a mind full of other people, forgotten the confusion and lack of identity when one's own conflicts with thousands of others. He knew, dimly, that the him after the transmutation was radically different from the him before it. On the other hand, the sheer numbers at that time had also provided a defense; with all the conflicting personalities around, there wasn't a single personality strong enough to consciously affect him.

Now, though, he could distinctly sense Edward's emotions. He had underestimated the despair a frustrated perfectionist was capable of. Day by day, the unrelenting knot of anguish inside him grew.

It was no longer remotely amusing, now that he was forced to suffer the pain as well. At first he tried to ignore it, but as time went on it got harder and harder to tell whether it was his own pain or external, and he began to realize that he simply wasn't equipped to deal with it. Nothing in his life had prepared him for coping with depression. It was wildly different from the jealousy that he had to put up with all the time. No amount of external violence worked, nothing stopped the unhappiness welling up from the depths of his mind and the incessant sobbing at the edges of his hearing.

Oh, he had no doubt that the bastard was doing it on purpose. The crying was overdone, but that didn't stop it from driving him absolutely out of his mind. The pain itself, however, was all too real. He tried to isolate the morbid creature, but Edward always managed to evade his mental traps. Granted, they were rather clumsy since he had never tried to do anything like this before, but where the hell did the shrimp get this level of psychic skill! Then he tried to block him out of his thoughts, but the attempt was completely wasted. Finally he tried to project his own thoughts at the other, but they always seemed to overshoot the mark. Apparently Edward was as small in death as he had been in life. If any thoughts _did_ reach him, Edward gave no sign, and they did nothing to decrease his sense of failure.

The situation was getting worse; he couldn't rest, he couldn't think. He didn't dare get close to any of the other homunculi, for fear that he would attack them like a rabid animal.

Desperate, he tried to confront Edward directly.

"Stop it already!" he yelled at him. "You're driving me crazy! Why can't you shut up!" It took several minutes for an answer to arrive.

_Al..._it was unmistakably Edward's voice, though nothing like he had sounded when he was alive. This voice was lost, hopeless, defeated.

He had always wanted to hear Fullmetal sound like that, see that indomitable spirit broken, but now it cut him to the bone because the same despair was eating away at _him_ too.

_I'll never fix him now…betrayed him…failed…_

He felt Edward spiraling down again, and his own breath was coming short. Really, it was better just to die, he _deserved_ to die –

It was an effort, but he wrenched himself away and focused on the present. "What the hell do I have to do to make you _stop_!"

…_stop?_

"To…to make you…happy?" That would work, he suddenly realized feverishly. If the shrimp was happy, then he'd stop broadcasting that damnable depression all the time. To be able to think clearly…

The bleakness lifted slightly, making him almost gasp for air in relief. The world around him suddenly seemed brighter.

_Al…fix Al?_ A spark of hope tinged the voice.

Restore the armor? he thought doubtfully. It was impossible, ridiculous that he'd even _think_ of –

The spark vanished, sending a wave of despair in its wake, made all the worse by the brief respite that had preceded it.

He was driven to his knees, hugging himself reflexively. "Dammit," he whimpered, hardly noticing that tears were running down his face. "I'll do it, ok? I'll fucking do whatever you want!"

* * *

He left the building, the battle lost once again. He was already nearly resigned to being Edward Elric. He was nervous; it was his first time outside in his new guise. 

_It's your body now_.

"They'll never believe me," he muttered. It was hopeless, ridiculous. He could never pull this off.

_Yes you can. _We _can. _

At least he hadn't triggered another depression attack this time. Try to control yourself, he told him. I'll never get anything done if I burst into sobs every five minutes!

He dimly noted that his self-esteem seemed to have taken a rapid nosedive in the past month or so. He didn't care anymore; it wasn't worth anything. All he cared about was keeping the bastard happy, which meant that he could be happy too.

"Hey!"

He stiffened. The voice was familiar. Squinty-eyes. I'm not ready for this! he wanted to scream, but that was a luxury he didn't have. Despite everything, when he was capable of thinking clearly, he _didn't _want to die. What he didn't understand was his own increasing determination to restore Al.

He turned around. "Ling?" he stammered slightly.

The black-haired Xingan regarded him severely. "Where have you been for these past three months? I've had nobody to mooch easy lunches off of."

He felt a stab of pain from the other's direction, though thankfully he seemed to be muffling it, not broadcasting it the way he usually did.

Maybe he was feeling magnanimous because of the gesture, or maybe he simply had gotten into the habit of keeping the other happy. Whatever it was, he glowered at Ling. "You should watch what you say," he snapped. "You never know what could happen to someone."

Ling looked at him sharply, but he turned away. He wouldn't answer any questions. Once he was with Al, he would be more protected. The sooner Al was restored, the sooner he would be free, even though he wasn't quite sure anymore what it was he wanted freedom from.

Are you happy now? he silently asked.

Edward Elric pressed his finally-restored hands against the glowing red walls of his prison, and rested his forehead on it. A small, tentative smile made its way onto his face. It wasn't how he wanted it. _Will be happy when Al is fixed._

But this was better than nothing.

_I love him…tell him?_

He sighed. Sure, he thought. I love Al too.


	2. Heart

Part 2 out of 4. I would like to say that I am pleased to pieces with the fact that I wrote this _before_ chapter 56 of the manga was published, and we see (spoiler!) Ling doing something rather similar. I figured it out before Arakawa published it! XD yeah!

_"After the heart, the actions will follow..."_

He hadn't known what he was getting into. He lay on the bed in Edward's dorm room and roundly cursed everyone he knew, especially the bastard to got him into this mess. Come to think of it, it was his own fault, wasn't it? he decided to cut off that line of thought. He stared morbidly at the dark ceiling. He didn't even dare curse out loud, he mused, because then Al would immediately revert to wakefulness to check what was wrong. Ever since Edward's return, Al hadn't let his brother out of his sight. Keeping up the act took concentration 24/7, because he didn't dare slip up. If something happened to him he wouldn't be able to restore Al –he wrenched his mind away furiously. The bastard might control he body, but he wasn't going to surrender his thoughts without a fight!

I don't care about Al, he thought firmly. In fact…the idea left his mind reeling, I'm going to kill him! Then you'll have nothing to live for, and you'll leave me alone!

_NO!_ the scream tore through his mind, followed by paralyzing terror. He sat up, tried to move towards the armor, but found himself hugging his knees in panic. Stupid, really, a small part of his mind whispered, you haven't been able to fight him until now, what makes you think he'd let you kill his brother? His pupils dilated and he wanted to scream, but his throat seemed frozen.

"Ed? What's wrong?" Al's worried voice came, and the armor rushed to his side. He shook his head and tried to shy away from the armor, even though his whole body was begging for the reassurance of his touch. When the gauntlet finally touched him, he felt all his resistance melt away, and the terror slowly lessened.

"Ed, talk to me! Are you alright?"

He nodded mutely, dimly aware that a part of him wanted to alleviate the worry in Al's voice. He wouldn't beg, refused to beg –"Stay close to me?" his traitorous mouth pleaded. Al nodded, and loudly sat down next to his bed. He felt like a coward. How had he even _considered_ killing him a moment ago? The very idea horrified him. Just because it was tough was no reason to give up.

* * *

Walking on base was a strange experience for him. Against his will, he found himself relaxing as soldiers he didn't know greeted him with grins or waves, or even just nods. He had never _belonged_ anywhere before. The jealousy he felt from his parasite only made it sweeter; the 'belonging' was now _his._

When he finally reached Mustang's section he found himself strangely calm, despite the fact that he knew he would have to report, and he had no clue what he was going to say. An unfamiliar female soldier told him, slightly apologetically, that the Colonel was busy now and he would have to wait. From the startled looks on the other soldiers' faces, he gathered that his easy acceptance was very uncharacteristic, but it was too late to do anything about it. Besides, it was difficult to care.

He sat down against the wall of the Colonel's office, and let the peace seep into his bones.

_They're not here. _The comment was rather sad.

Who?

_Hawkeye…Havoc…Breda…Fuhrer sent them away._

Despite the bittersweet memory, he still felt safer than he had in years. It was strange that despite his strong dislike of the military, Edward felt the calmest right here, outside the Colonel's door.

Before he knew it, his head dropped to his knees and he was asleep.

Somebody was shaking him awake. He raised his head, completely disoriented, and looked into a pair concerned coal-black eyes. For one almost blissful moment he had no idea where he was, who he was-

_Edward Elric._ He was not allowed to forget.

"Fullmetal," the name was left hanging, but there was a question behind it.

He was rather tired of people constantly asking him if he was ok, though considering Ed's lifestyle, they had ample reason to worry. He coaxed his face into a smile and pushed himself up with a small grunt. Thankfully, the colonel didn't try to help him. He preceded the Flame Alchemist into the office, and sat nervously on one of the sofas. He still didn't know what he was going to say. All he had to go on was the conviction that Mustang would help him.

"You've been gone a long time," Mustang began, "and you failed to contact anyone at all. You also have not submitted a written report on your return."

He licked his lips nervously, and hoped it would work. "I didn't dare," he said urgently.

"What do you mean?"

He bit his lip and looked away. "You gotta promise you won't freak."

Mustang rolled his eyes slightly at the phrasing, but nodded solemnly and stood up behind his desk. "Tell me what happened."

He gulped, then stood up and walked to the desk, dropping his red coat on the sofa. He could see Mustang's surprise when he stripped off his black jacket too. He forestalled any words by presenting his left shoulder –and the telltale red symbol on it –for scrutiny. Faking an ouroboros there was child's play for him.

The colonel gasped, but he clenched his jaw and stared determinedly straight ahead.

A sudden movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he jerked away, wide-eyed.

"You shithead Colonel!" He backed away from the Flame Alchemist, who had his fingers pressed together menacingly. Had he chosen wrong? How could the Colonel betray him like this? Edward had trusted him so much…

_Mustang?_ Hurt bewilderment laced the mental question.

"You…I thought you would help me!" he pleaded, backing away further.

"I have no proof you are indeed Fullmetal. You could be Envy." Mustang's watched him grimly, closing the distance between them.

He tried to fight the words, but they forced themselves out of his mouth, leaving a bitter taste. "Envy's dead! I…killed him…." he swallowed, and continued quickly. "And why the hell would anyone else bother impersonating me! Believe me, I haven't changed in any way that matters. All I want is to restore Al!"

"I have been led to believe the homunculi think differently than humans."

He clenched his fists. "I don't care how I think. I just want him whole again."

Mustang could believe that. He could believe that Edward's determination to restore his brother might outlast the world itself, if it had to. He relaxed, but didn't completely lower his guard. "How did this happen to you? I want a full report!" he demanded.

He took a step back. This was the question he couldn't deal with. No lie he invented would be convincing enough, and he couldn't evade the question.

"I…" he began. Give me a panic attack _now!_ he screamed quietly. For one moment he felt confusion, then a wave of misery and panic swept through his mind. For once, he was marginally happy about the horror of it all. He clenched his eyes shut, and whimpered, his body curling slightly on reflex. "No," he panted out, dimly aware of Mustang near him, talking to him, the voice coming from far away. He grabbed two fistfuls of the uniform and clung on, trying to keep back the tears. "Please don't ask me, please don't make me say, please please…" he gabbled around his breath that refused to come.

It was painful and degrading and horrible, but it worked as nothing else might. Mustang had no defense against a begging Edward, and he gave in, and comforted him awkwardly, and assured him that they would find some solution to this mess.

He was too exhausted to feel very triumphant.

* * *

As the weeks passed, he realized how incomplete his impersonation was. On his own, he wouldn't have managed to convince them for more than a few days. Sure he was getting help, and those mental promptings did a lot to cement the persona, but he still could not become Edward. He wasn't so innocent, so jaded, so determined as Edward was. He was more self-centered, and had a greater tendency to answer inquiries with cutting remarks. More than anything, he could never care about people the way Edward did, though he was frightened when he noticed how much he _was_ starting to care.

But despite the fact that he was not the Edward they knew, they did their best to accept him. They did their best to treat him the way they had the old Edward, and to love him the way they had the old Edward.

The thought that their precious Edward was dead never occurred to them.

When he was feeling particularly angry, he would amuse himself with imagining their faces when he told them how he had killed their Fullmetal. Oh, he would describe it beautifully, give them every detail, down to the last drop of blood.

_He _didn't like it when he thought those things, but he also didn't punish him for them. He refused to admit to anyone, least of all himself, that he probably would never tell them what had happened. He didn't want to dwell on the fact that as time went by, he found himself rather enjoying Edward's life.  
Even he got tired of fighting the inevitable. If he was going to live it, he might as well enjoy what it had to offer.

The caring, though, was completely alien to him. At first he secretly scoffed at the idea, but soon he began wondering whether he wasn't missing out on something. He couldn't forget the feeling of peace and belonging he had first felt when he came back to the base. More and more he found himself drawing on Edward's wellspring of caring, and soon it became easier. He didn't even notice when he was loving on his own, and no longer just channeling the other's feelings.

* * *

Edward watched his life being lived. He had decided long ago not to be a back-seat driver, and let things run their course as much as they could. After all, it was no longer him living it; he never would live again.

He watched as the people around him accepted his surrogate, comforted him from the aftereffects of the unhappiness he himself broadcasted, and grew used to his differences.

He tried to tell himself he was happy. He _wanted_ them to accept the new him, it was the only way Al would ever get restored. He told himself that it didn't hurt to see them all happy, when he was locked away, all alone.

He tried very hard not to be selfish.

He muffled his unhappiness as much as he could; he didn't want to be a bother anymore than he already was; he knew the other's tolerance level for sadness was rather low. He didn't want anyone to find out how self-centered he was.

It was wrong of him, so terribly wrong, to wish he was buried near his mother, and not in the middle of nowhere in a nearly-unmarked grave, especially when he was forcing his killer to do so much already.

But he couldn't hide his sadness completely, and finally his thoughts were picked up on.

**You're such a little hypocrite! Believe me, if I could, I would kill you all over again! First you drive me insane to force me to do what you want, and now you're unhappy because it's working?**

He flinched, but didn't answer. He couldn't stop the other from reading his feelings, though. He _was_ unbearably selfish. Some part of him had hoped that they would see through the disguise.

He thought they loved him. How could he be dead, and nobody was missing him? Shouldn't the world be somehow different, now that he was gone? Didn't he matter at all, just a tiny bit?

It wasn't that he wanted everyone to be sad. He was happy that they were happy. But why could somebody else so easily live his life for him, and they didn't notice that he was gone?

Dammit…the truth was prodded out of him, he _did_ want them to be sad! He wanted to be missed, and he wanted a proper funeral, and maybe someone to say something good about him and write 'Beloved Brother' on his grave. He wanted somebody to cry that he was dead.

He tried to stop the tears, tried to swallow the sobs shaking him. But he couldn't hide his shame.

**…poor, messed up kid**.

He looked up in surprise. Regardless of the words, what he had felt behind them was honest compassion.

**They _do_ miss you. Ah, how can you possibly be so clueless? Well, I supposed it's harder for you to notice these things. Do you know how many times they look at me when they think I don't notice and wish for the old Edward back? And then they feel guilty, and try the harder to accept me**.

_They do? _

**Don't you understand, it's not _me_ they care about! They only care because they think I'm **_**you**._

_But that doesn't change…that I don't matter. _

**You're terribly dense, you know that? What do you think of what you did to _me_? Face it, you destroyed me, and took me for yourself. Think of how different things would be if you hadn't done that, if you weren't controlling me still.**

_I'm sorry…I'm sorry I'm doing this to you._ _I would much rather be alive and doing it myself. _He was sorry, but that didn't mean he was going to stop. He couldn't afford to; it was the least he could do for Al.

**…You're just as miserable as you make me, aren't you?** The thought was rather surprised.

Edward smiled slightly.

**Stop thinking that, I am _not _dumb. I just had a profound realization here. You should be more supportive.**

He suddenly realized that this was an attempt to cheer him up. It was a good feeling. It didn't change his failure, or how much he missed everyone, but it still helped a little.

**Even if it's my physical body doing it, when we restore Al, the credit will all be on your head. It's your achievement.**

He allowed himself to hope.


	3. Delusions

Part three, heralding the utter destruction of what's left of Envy's identity. I write such _cheerful _stuff, really.

* * *

_"The direction a man wants to walk in is the direction in which he is led."

* * *

_

Sometimes he found himself wondering bemusedly what he would do without Al. He hadn't told Al what had happened, not even the fragmented fabricated version he told the others. What he didn't understand was why Al never asked him. Al knew Edward better than anybody else; he probably saw right through the little charade from the first.

But from the beginning, Al had simply been unfailingly supportive. True, he worked on his act much harder when he was around 'his' little brother, but there was no way in hell Al hadn't noticed the difference. Al wasn't dumb. He tried asking i him /i about it, but he found the answer rather perplexing.

_He knows me._

**You mean he knows what happened to you? He knows you're inside of me?**

_No…he understands me._

**That doesn't explain why he's not suspicious.**

There was a silence while the other thought. It took some time; the lack of a mind of his own had slowed down his mental processes significantly.

_You can't understand…how to speak without talking._

He could feel the effort the explanation had taken, and knew that for now that was all the answer he was going to get. He mulled over this insight into the Elric brothers' relationship. He felt a twinge of jealousy at that. He had never been that close to anybody in his entire existence.

On one hand, the thought of somebody knowing him so intimately was frightening, but it was also oddly attractive. After all, why should knowing that you have someone to back you up no matter what be a weakness?

He froze, aghast at this train of thought. It was _wrong_, it was weak to depend on others, he tried to convince himself feebly, but found it hard to believe. Because now that he had an inkling of what it meant to live like that, he knew it didn't _work_ that way. Al's support meant that he could fight so much harder, since he knew that Al was there to back him up. He didn't have to worry about the aftermath, because Al was there to do that for him. How could that possibly be a weaker way to live?

He looked over at Al, who was sitting across the room from him reading a large alchemy book. Well, he supposed it was as good a way to pass evenings as any, even though he himself found it tedious. Ed, apparently, was used to spending every free waking moment (and some sleeping ones) in the library. The only problem was, _he_ really didn't have that sort of patience –or obsession. More and more often he found himself trying to come up with excuses to be on missions, or anywhere _but_ the library.

He yawned. Strange. Ever since he had acquired his parasite he found himself tired more often than before, and also more inclined to eat. A nap was starting to sound rather nice, really. He undid his black jacket and dropped it carelessly on a chair, and suddenly felt Al's glowing 'eyes' on him.

He realized with a chill that Al hadn't seen the ouroboros on his shoulder until now. Almost frightened, he jerked around and clapped his automail hand over the offending symbol, his back hunching protectively. He clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, sure that now he would be exposed for the fraud he was, sure that Al could never possibly accept a homunculus as his brother.

He flinched away but didn't resist when a surprisingly gentle gauntlet pried his hand away from his flesh shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he told Al, not even quite sure what he was apologizing for, but hoping vainly that the empty words could make up for what he had done.

Al abruptly let go of his arm and stepped away. He stared at Al in confusion, and for the first time noticed the distance between them. The physical meter suddenly seemed like a fathomless chasm, and he couldn't understand why.

He was being cast away, adrift, and he looked up at the suit of armor that held the soul of the brother that wasn't really his and said in confusion, "but…I still love you…!"

The words seemed weak and small, but it was as if the rift had never been.

"I know you do," Al said.

He couldn't for the life of him understand why sadness lurked behind the words.

* * *

He stormed away, unable to stand Al for a moment longer. He couldn't abide the patience, the acceptance, and the love. He was sick to the core of his being of smiling at people, following orders, acting _nice_. Their concern infuriated him. The only way out was to get as far away from them as he dared, wander around Central where he didn't know anybody and could drop the damned act. 

Well, only parts of it; he wasn't allowed to change his form, after all, and definitely wasn't allowed to indulge in his darker amusements. He refused to admit he was whipped; this was only temporary, until he could get the bastard inside him to shut up.

The deep scowl on his face kept most passers-by at a distance. With the tell-tale red coat left behind at the barracks he could pretend nobody knew who he was, though people still recognized him. With every step he felt the hatred and frustration pound through his skull until he hardly knew where he was anymore. He wanted to kill someone, but knew that luxury was denied him.

Finally he paused, in the middle of the business district of Central. All around him were people shopping or selling. His blank gaze wandered over the display in the store next to him, which was full of blown glass imported from Xing.

Inside the store it was cool and quiet, the shelves glittering with delicate glass shapes. Against his will he found himself relaxing slightly and grudgingly admiring the artwork.

"Can I help you?"

Startled, he yelped and jerked around. His arm hit a shelf, sending vases and jugs flying to the floor, the glass shattering instantly into bright shards.

When the racket died down he stared at the mess on the floor in dismay, while the proprietor (who had been the one to startle him) glared at him furiously.

His first impulse was to kill the damn Xingan. It was his fault for startling him!

His second impulse was to just laugh and walk out, maybe break some more just out of spite.

But he did neither of those, because he wasn't himself anymore, he was Edward. And Edward would look at the man sheepishly, and apologize unhappily for the breakage.

Then Edward would clap his hands and --there he froze. He _couldn't_ do alchemy to make everything right. Frustration coursed through him as he stared at the mess and realized there was absolutely nothing he could do about it, and no way he could fix it.

Finally he got a grip on himself, and meekly agreed to pay for what he had broken.

_Equivalent Trade._

What a time for _him_ to pipe up, he thought sourly. **Stay out of this.**

_Homunculi…are like that._ The thought was slow, contemplative. _Elephant in glass shop. Or…maybe just…a kid._

After paying, he made as dignified a retreat as possible, ignoring the proprietor's muttered comments about uneducated brats.

**Stop trying to educate me,** he snarled. Not for the first time, he contemplated just handing himself in to Father. That would get rid of the Shrimp quick enough.

That would be failure, though, the thought niggled at the back of his mind. Do you really want them all to know that a _human_, especially that one, is inside of you, controlling you?

_I'm not being controlled, _he thought furiously. _I don't want to die, that's all. I can deal with the Shrimp on my own. It's only temporary, until I can wear him down enough to ignore his stupid depression attacks. Besides, who wants to work for Father anyway? I might as well hang out with the alchemists._

Rather cheered up by how he had neatly rationalized himself out of the quandary, he walked with a lighter step than before, his earlier bad mood almost forgotten. He caught sight of a clock, and turned back to the barracks quickly. _It's been hours,_ he thought guiltily. _Al's going to be so worried._

* * *

"Gah!" he jerked awake from his snooze on a bench at the back of the library, to encounter a very familiar, very unwelcome face. "What are you doing here, freak? Can't you see I'm trying to sleep?" 

Squinty-eyes didn't answer, just looked at him with a serious expression he hadn't seen for a while now.

"What do you want?" he frowned, sitting up on the bench and raking a hand through his bangs. He would probably have to fix his braid again now.

"Tell me how you did it," Squinty-eyes demanded quietly.

"Did what?"

"You gained immortality. You're one of them, but still yourself."

_Still yourself…_ the words echoed jarringly through his mind. I'm not! he wanted to scream. I'm not him. I will never be him. I _hate_ him.

"It won't work for you," he said bitterly. "I can't tell you how to do it, and you wouldn't be yourself. Nobody expected this to happen to me, either." Nobody expected I would be Edward Elric.

"I will judge that," Squinty-eyes said intensely. "Tell me the secret!"

"It's not something you can do for yourself," he said wearily. "It's something that has to be done to you, and I don't even understand how, or what exactly happened." He didn't care about playing mind-games right now. He was too tired of the charade.

Until now, being other people had been a way to express his constant jealousy, as well as a source of amusement. But now…suddenly he was bone-tired and sick inside. Sick with jealousy, when he thought how nobody would ever look at him the way they looked at Edward. He was cold inside, cold and terribly empty, because some part of him understood that the creature who had been Envy had no future at all, anywhere. "Why didn't you turn me in, if you knew what I was?" he asked dully.

Squinty-eyes looked away, apparently uncomfortable over what he saw in those golden eyes. "I wanted to see who you had turned into. I'm…sorry about what I said," he said grudgingly. "You're all tied up, aren't you? You can't let go anymore."

_Why would I want to? I failed…I won't fail on my last chance._

Who was Squinty-eyes talking about? he wondered vaguely. Was it him, or the Shrimp? Or…both?

* * *

The restlessness was enough to drive him insane, he thought furiously as he stormed out of his room in the middle of the night. His passenger had been cooking up something in the past few weeks; he could feel the constant activity in the back of his mind. Whatever it was, it had to be something big, and that made him nervous. The alchemist's genius had been severely hampered by his sacrifice, since he no longer had a mind of his own with which to think. But the genius was still there, it just took longer to manifest itself. 

No doubt whatever plan the Shrimp was cooking up was the cause of his restlessness. Any time he tried to stop somewhere, or sit down, or even watch the stars, the mental prodding kept him from receiving any enjoyment out of it, and he soon found himself moving on.

He wished whatever-it-was that was supposed to happen would get it over with, so he could get some sleep.

Damn, he _really_ would like to stop and watch the stars a bit. It was stupid, and sappy and pointless and _human_, but they were pretty. If only-

_DANGER!_

The feeling tore through his mind, closely followed by anger and a rising panic. He couldn't help himself; he lashed out immediately against the source of the danger, a person who had been following him without him even noticing it. Without even considering, he extended his fingers into long claws which pierced his shadow's vital organs and pinned him to the wall, another finger growing to block his mouth and any sound he might make.

It only took him a split second to realize where he had unconsciously placed the claws, and who it was he had caught. Who was looking at him, despite the claws piercing his skull and heart and red ports, with a look of growing comprehension.

"Wrath," he breathed, his throat closing up in a very unfamiliar feeling which he assumed was fear. He had immobilized the other homunculus completely, utilizing the disabling ports with which he was so familiar and of which the Elric brat knew nothing.

**You bastard!** he roared inside the interior of his head. **You fucking miserable piece of shit! What have you done!**

_Kill him._

It was ridiculous, impossible. This was definitely not part of the agreement. Despite everything, he would not rebel. When this was over, he would go back to Father, _like a good little dog_ and go back to the way he had been. It wasn't that he cared for Wrath at all –but this was simply something he wouldn't do. He wouldn't kill his brother.

_If you don't kill him, you're dead. He knows you're not me. He will kill you._

**I'll tell him about you, you disgusting little fucker. How long did it take you to come up with this?**

_Will tell Father. Father will kill you. Kill him._

The voice was cold, inexorable. He had never heard the Fullmetal Shrimp talk that way.

This wasn't right. _He_ was supposed to be the cruel one, the manipulative one. He was supposed to watch as others were left with no options, watch the despair in their eyes as they realized it was his way or no way. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

_Destroy him, if you want to live._

It was tempting to give in, just because his death would mean his parasite's death as well. But even for that revenge, he refused to kill himself. He was too damn selfish for that.

A strange desperation ate at him. **You stupid bastard, I _can't_ kill him. Didn't think of that, did you? How can I kill him, when I have to keep him pinned down this way?** He hated how weak he sounded, but couldn't stop the torrent of thoughts. It didn't matter; the kid was inside his mind anyway, there was nowhere to hide. What was wrong with him? **If I let him go, he's too fast for me. You're the genius,** he snapped. **Got a solution?**

There was silence, and he stood immobile, his breathing coming short, while Wrath made occasional abortive attempts at escape.

_Give me more space to think. Open up your mind_.

**Never!** he screamed, now finally understanding the true scope of the plan. Once he _let_ him into his mind, it was all over; it would be impossible to push him back out.

_Then die._

This wasn't supposed to happen, he thought dimly as he let down his barriers, and felt the consciousness that had crept around the borders for so long seep into his mind.

_Not supposed to happen,_ as alien thoughts began to run through his mind in ways that he had never thought, and his mind started speaking to him in his own voice.

_Not supposed to…_ even as it comforted him, and presented the chemical solution for an organism-generated acid capable of destroying a homunculus.

_We can restore Al!_ his mind told him, after efficiently running through the options, and he could muster up nothing but a fierce joy.

He tried to remember…he had had a different name once…a different identity. He had been called something…it started with an 'e' sound….

_Edward_, his mind supplied helpfully.


	4. Ending 1: Crow

Finally, the last chapter of this story. Sort of. See, I wrote this chapter first, but then I had an idea for a different ending. I wrote the other ending also, and couldn't decide which one I like better, since each one puts an emphasis on different aspects of the characters' personalities.

So here is ending #1: Crow

_"You know the story about Crow who wanted to walk like Dove? Crow was impressed by how prettily Dove walked, and decided he wanted to walk like that too. Every day he followed Dove, trying to mimic how she walked.  
"But time went by, and he didn't succeed, so he decided to give up. By then it was too late. Crow could no longer go back to the way he used to walk; he was stuck forever in the strange skip-hop we see today._

_"I know exactly how Crow felt."_

He had succeeded.

The thought felt alien. Months of fighting madly for his life, battles with homunculi, skirmishes with Scar and crazed alchemists- all had brought him to this wonderful moment.

He stared at Al, basking in the sight of his younger brother in the flesh. His breath came short and his lungs were on fire, his heart felt like it was bursting, he felt dizzy and lightheaded and absolutely wonderful.

Al was still inspecting his new body bemusedly, but now he looked up at his brother, tears starting in his eyes and a grin splitting his face.

Ed laughed, the culmination of his life's work standing in front of him, and opened his arms. Al didn't hesitate even for an instant, and the two locked together in a bone-crushing hug.

They didn't need words. They didn't need anything but each other.

The shouts coming from outside the abandoned building they had chosen to use for the transmutation hardly penetrated their happy haze; now that they were completely together, body and soul, nothing in the world would ever separate them again.

* * *

He held Al at arm's length, and surveyed the perfection that was his younger brother. Resisting the impulse to touch was difficult; he didn't want to be clingy, after all. But Al just smiled at him and ran his own hands up Ed's arms, so that was ok.

"Now all we have to do is find a way to turn you human again!" Al said cheerfully.

_Wait…_something felt wrong about that. His mind was struggling with a concept, something that had been there so long he had stopped noticing it.

_Al was restored. _With the loss of motivation, came release of the vice-like grip. Hauntingly familiar images suddenly flashed through his mind, a maelstrom of blood and death; homunculi and the one called 'Father', and a golden-haired alchemist dying on the ground, blood bubbling at his lips.

"He's _dead_," he crowed, forcing the words out, relishing the freedom of being able to finally say it. He could feel his face twisting in effort.

The grin faded from Al's face. "What…?"

"You're brother is dead!" A voice inside him was weakly telling him to stop, but he could ignore it this time, and plowed on. "I killed him!" He smirked cruelly. He had waited for this moment, dreamed of this moment for what seemed like an eternity.

"That's impossible!" Al stared at him, eyes wide and horrified. "Who exactly do you think _you_ are, then!"

People had entered the room; he registered them in his peripheral vision, but he didn't care.

"I'm…" suddenly he floundered. It had been so long since he had even thought the name.

_Envy,_ the voice inside his mind told him sadly. It was equivalent trade.

"Envy!" he gasped out, taking a few steps back. _Finally, I can be myself again!_ he suddenly realized. The shape-shifting was awkward, and took him longer than he vaguely remembered it taking. He was out of practice.

Finally he was back in his own form, though a niggling worry was playing at the back of his mind.

It was all wrong, he thought, fear finally beginning to register. This form felt all _wrong_. The fingers were too thin, the legs too long, the hair too wild. He nervously brushed his hair back, and tugged at his skort with one hand. The clothes were too skimpy.

This wasn't him.

Panic was starting to set in. He let himself flow, letting go of this too-alien form, and tried to come up with something more comfortable. His hair abruptly changed from green to gold, matching his eyes. His clothes flowed, covering more of his body, though remaining tight.

A solid blow to his face nearly stunned him, and he stepped back in confusion. Another blow followed.

"How dare you wear his face!" Al cried furiously. "You killed him!" Al punched him in the face again, then grabbed onto the fabric of his shirt. "Give him back to me!" he screamed. "Give me back my brother!" The anger was practically drowned in the misery of the heartbroken plea.

_Al, it's ok, it's ok – I told him to, I made him, I wanted to fix you, please don't cry Al, please! I'm sorry I messed up, I'm so sorry, please Al!_

"I…I can't…" he stumbled over the words, feeling helpless. Why had he done this? What had possessed him to break it to Al this way? "I didn't mean to…"

"Liar!" Al glared at him. "Why did you do it? Why did you pretend to be him?" Al shook him, and he didn't have the heart to pull away from the abuse. What was a little physical pain, compared to what he had done? "He's inside of me. Inside my Philosopher's Stone."

"He's…he's still alive! Let me talk to him!"

_No!_

**What? Why!**

_I don't want…him to see me…like this…_

"Please!" Al hunched over, his voice heavy. "I'll…I'll give you anything, just let me see him again…"

Why did it hurt him so much to see Al like this? "No!" he choked.

"I'll show you…" Maybe Al wouldn't hate him so much, then.

_No!_

It was possible to ignore what that voice wanted. _He _should know, most of all, that Al always came first.

He took a few steps back, and allowed his body to remember that _other_ form.

* * *

Edward suddenly found himself in a different place. The red walls around him receded, the landscape was changing. Suddenly he felt something he hadn't felt in an eternity. He could _see_. It was a body, he realized, blinking physical eyes and looking at physical hands.

It wasn't quite real. It didn't respond fast, and he could still feel the connection to other bodies, and to the main one, but it was a heady feeling nonetheless.

Al, he remembered in a flash. Al was waiting for him.

He pushed outward, fought his way through the other bodies. They were gibbering at him, and tried to stop him. They clung to him with smooth hands and twined themselves about his form, but it was a completely futile effort. He pushed them away as easily as if they were dead leaves in his path.

Finally, he burst out, the light puzzling him momentarily, but unable to distract him from Al.

Perfect, he thought. How can anybody be so completely perfect?

"E-Edward…" Al stammered, looking up at him in horror.

It was this body, Ed realized. He was horrible. Al shouldn't see him like this. He shouldn't touch his brother with these fake hands of his, nor dare look on him with these dirty eyes.

He recoiled. No, no, he never wanted to see Al look at him like this. He would rather die a thousand more times than have to live with the knowledge that he _disgusted_ his little brother. Ed hid his face in his hands, trying to pull away, to retreat back behind the rows of other bodies now pressing him gleefully forward, enjoying his torment.

"Ed, no, don't go!" Al was touching him, pulling him forward.

No, stop, I'm horrible, hideous, _dead_.

Al pulled his arms away from his face, and hugged him. "Ed, my brother, my…" Al was whispering against his neck, and he could feel wetness from tears.

Ed tried to move his mouth, to communicate out loud. "Don't leave me, Al," he begged, and tried to hold on.

_He was dead._

Suddenly this seemed clear to him.

He would be stuck like this forever, he realized. He would never be able to see Al again, or hold him, or even speak to him properly.

Al would leave him. He could feel a strange wetness on his cheeks.

_I don't want to be like this! _he screamed. _I want out! Let me out! Let me go! _

His arms tightened around his brother.

**I can't. Dammit, I would have gotten rid of you ages ago if I could! **

_I don't want to stay here! I want Al!_

**I'm sorry!**

"I can' leave," he finally explained thickly. "I'm stuck here. Just…could you bury me near Mom? I don't want to be dead all by myself."

His brother nodded at him through his tears, and Ed sighed with relief. It would be some sort of comfort to know that at least his body would be close to his family.

All the other spirits had lost their identity long ago. He hoped he would go quickly, enough to forget who he had been, and what he had lost.

Al was looking up at him, trying to get his attention. "I…I think I can…." Al clapped his hands together, and reached out. Ed took his hands willingly, hope briefly igniting in his dead heart. Al would save him.

"I'll always love you…"

He could feel Al growing further and further away, but he wasn't worried. Some day, Al would be here with him.

Everything was fading away, dissolving in light, and he could finally rest.

* * *

**Stop!**

He roared throwing his head back, and jerked away. His body convulsed, and he melted, changing to his smaller, more human form.

Al was staring at him, the look of vindication and victory fading slightly to reveal worry.

There was a gaping hole inside of him, a gaping hole where Edward had once been.

Frantically, he searched for that voice that had always told him who he was, told him what to do, had loved him and comforted him.

He crumpled to the floor, clenching both fists. He was Envy, completely Envy, and nothing but Envy.

They were all looking at him, contempt written on their faces. They hated him; he had taken their Edward away from them.

He deserved to suffer.

It was fitting that they were here, he thought. It was good that Roy got to see Edward one last time. Those soldiers had been his friends. Ling had been his friend too.

And Al….

It wasn't fair, he realized. He still understood them. He still loved them. He was Envy. Why did he still care? Why!

"He's gone," Al said, his voice shaking. "What did you do with his body?"

They had never cared about _him_.

Envy found himself wildly jealous of Edward. It was always Edward they had loved. "I buried him…outside of North City." He had no will to resist any more.

Al was turning away from him.

They hated him.

He deserved to hurt, he thought. He had sinned grievously, past any kind of redemption. But it still wasn't fair…. Envy found his voice.

"Was I…was I such a bad brother to you?"

Al froze, stared at him in incredulity.

He looked up pleadingly, searching for some spark in one of the stone faces around him but found none. "You're supposed to be the good ones! _This isn't right!" _he cried. "You made me love you. You can't throw me away now! You need to…take responsibility. This isn't Equivalent," he choked out, not daring to look at him.

"You deserve nothing." It was Roy. His voice was cold, furious.

"You brought this upon yourself." Ling had no pity for him either.

The worst part was, they were right. It was only what he deserved. He couldn't bear to look at Al's face; he got unsteadily to his feet and fled.

Rejection was one of the cruelest punishments for Edward; even an incomplete Edward, like Envy was.

* * *

He stumbled through the underbrush. The world was a gray, drab place. He knew he would never again be able to find peace in nature the way Edward had taught him to, would never be able to just enjoy something simple like sunlight.

"Wait!"

It was Al's voice. _How much longer must you torment me?_ He was Edward enough that Al's hatred was something he could never bear.

"Please, wait!"

Envy slowed to a stop. His mind was protesting, telling him he would only hurt himself worse, but his heart desperately wanted to be near Al.

Al came to a stop, panting slightly. "Listen…I thought about what you said…maybe, do you…come back with me? We can try to make it work. Stay with me."

He frankly stared at Al. It didn't make sense, what he was hearing. It couldn't be true. Despite everything he had done, Al was willing to try and forgive him. At that moment his heart fell at Al's feet, and he knew he would belong to the young Elric forever.

He wanted to agree, desperately wanted to say yes, but the memory of Al's haunted voice stopped him.

"You would hate me," he said hoarsely. "How long until you got up every morning, and looked at me only to remember that I was the one who took your brother away from you? You can never forgive me for that."

Al opened his mouth, but he wasn't finished.

"Don't try to use me to replace your brother. He deserves his own place in your memory." He could no longer resist the impulse, and dared to hug Al. It was the only time Al hugged _him_ back, him as himself and not Edward, and he knew he would treasure it forever.

"Mourn him, Alphonse," he whispered, before running.

* * *

He left Amestris. He couldn't bear to stay in that country, so close and yet so far from Al. His only thought was to get away, as far away as he possibly could.

Maybe some day he would find out who _he_ was now.

The world was a cold place to him; it belonged to humans. There was no room for a watered-down version of Edward Elric anywhere in it; but maybe there would be a small corner for _him_.

Sometimes, fleetingly, he would catch a glimpse of how the world had looked when he was Edward: a bright, beautiful place, full of life and endless opportunities. It would come upon him when he least expected it, when he saw a particularly breathtaking view or heard someone laughing, or sometimes just after the rain.

He would search for that feeling for the rest of his life. It was a dream, something alien to him, a peace that he didn't deserve and would probably never reach.

But he could no more stop trying to reach that elusive 'happiness' than he could turn back time and the circumstances that had brought him here.

* * *


	5. Ending 2: The Last Sacrifice

And the second ending, in some ways slightly more cheerful than the first one, in some ways not.

**The Last Sacrifice**

****

He had succeeded.

The thought felt alien. Months of fighting madly for his life, battles with homunculi, skirmishes with Scar and crazed alchemists- all had brought him to this wonderful moment.

He stared at Al, basking in the sight of his younger brother in the flesh. His breath came short and his lungs were on fire, his heart felt like it was bursting, he felt dizzy and lightheaded and absolutely wonderful.

Al was still inspecting his new body bemusedly, but now he looked up at his brother, tears starting in his eyes and a grin splitting his face.

Ed laughed, the culmination of his life's work standing in front of him, and opened his arms. Al didn't hesitate even for an instant, and the two locked together in a bone-crushing hug.

They didn't need words. They didn't need anything but each other.

The shouts coming from outside the abandoned building they had chosen to use for the transmutation hardly penetrated their happy haze; now that they were completely together, body and soul, nothing in the world would ever separate them again.

He held Al at arm's length, and surveyed the perfection that was his younger brother. Resisting the impulse to touch was difficult; he didn't want to be clingy, after all. But Al just smiled at him and ran his own hands up Ed's arms, so that was ok.

"Now all we have to do is find a way to turn you human again!" Al said cheerfully.

_Turn you human again._ The words echoed strangely inside his mind.

Something sparked inside of him, some long-forgotten memory of a different person, but he quashed it quickly. _He was-_ Edward Elric, he thought firmly. _No, there was somebody-_ What a silly thought. True, now he was a shape-shifting homunculus and he hadn't been before, but he was still himself.

_no... _

That small protest seemed to die out.

He refused to give up this body he had worked so long and hard to have.

_Not...not fair..._

"Leave it alone, Al," he said softly. Al stared at him in surprise. "I've got my limbs back, and I've got you. I don't want to push my luck."

_You promised..._

"But...it's not right for you to be like this..."

That hurt. "Al, are you saying that just because I'm not...not human I-"

"No!" his brother hugged him tightly. "You are human. If I was human when I was nothing but a soul in armor, then you are definitely human!"

Sighing in relief, he hugged Al back. "Then please, my brother, let it lie. I am happy."

It wasn't like Al could really fix him, anyway. If he had learned one thing, it was that you couldn't raise the dead.

_You promised...! _the voice was laden with betrayal.

Edward looked at Al again, brushed some flaxen hair out of his eyes. Yes, he had promised.

To give up this life again -_he was already long dead- _never to see Al any more, to leave Winry and Pinako and Izumi and yes even Mustang behind, since Al was restored. All this he had promised.

He imagined the look on Al's face when he found out his brother had died. Thought about the reactions of all the people who had worked so hard to accept him, gone far enough that they had accepted a homunculus as his replacement.

**No.****Hell no.**

He would not give up this life. Even if he had to fight to keep hold of this body every day of his life -_of Al's life, since he could live forever, but why would he want to live after his brother died?_- he would take what he figured life owed him. He had paid enough.

**It's equivalent trade. **

_This is not equivalence!_

**You killed others. Now you lose your life.**

_Liar...liar..._

Al didn't have to know. His brother would never know how close he had come to losing him completely.

"Let's go home, Al." Edward grinned, and held out his right hand. It only took a short thought to change the texture of the flesh from metallic to skin and bone.

His wonderful, beautiful little brother smiled back, and took his hand.

To sacrifice Envy's life for this...

Yes, it would bother him. He would lie awake some nights over what he had done.

But it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

* * *

**A/N:** (WARNING: psychobabble. Read if you're interested in what I was thinking, but you really don't have to)  
I'm just going to put my two cents in about this second ending. The general consensus seems to be that the first ending rocks, and the second ending doesn't, for various reasons. I am aware the the second ending is shorter and less polished than the first, but it was an idea I felt I had to write. The whole story was shaping up for me as a bit of an angst-fest (at least that's how I saw it). I wrote the first ending because I could see no other way that it could possibly end; at least it was partially happy, since Ed got to die (that sounds so wrong) and Envy went to 'look for himself'.

Then I started thinking. What if Ed _didn't_ keep his promise? Look at it from Ed's point of view: he basically has to choose between keeping his promise to Envy, and Al's happiness. For Ed, Al _always_ comes first, last and always. So it's not easy for him to choose this, but in the end, I think it's something he might actually be capable of doing.

As for Envy, I truly don't know which ending is more 'tragic'. In the second one, he's not actually dead per se; his personality was simply swallowed up by Edward Elric. In a sense, he's perfectly happy. He's also not Envy anymore. In the first ending, Envy was left as a watered-down version of Edward Elric's personality superimposed on top of his own, and that's something he'll never be able to change. He'll constantly be attempting to be Edward, but he can never succeed. It's basically a quest with no purpose, and no end. And he can't stop. On the other hand, it's left on a hopeful note; he might find his own place eventually.

Personally, I'm not quite satisfied with either ending; if I had been, there would only be one of them. I posted them both 'cause I felt they were both significant to the story in different ways. You don't have to agree with me; I just hope you enjoyed the story, either way. (feel free to argue with me on any of the points I raised. You can even argue with me on MSN or something if you'd like. I like to argue.)

So which one did you like better?


End file.
